


with fortune in men's eyes

by witchboys



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, M/M, choreographer!minho, producer!jisung, slightly tragic but mostly a shakespearean comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchboys/pseuds/witchboys
Summary: being in love is hard but when you throw in a teen magazine, questionable life choices, too much caffeine, and lee minho -- you get a national state of emergency





	1. Chapter 1

Minho never believed in soulmates.

He never was one for romantic films or books. He never once received a love note in his locker. He never even went out on a single date. He spent much of his youth focusing only on two things: dance and academics. Dance eventually outweighed the latter and while his other classmates around him were preparing for higher education, he was in pursuit of chasing a wild heart adolescent’s dream.

Minho wasn’t alone though -- even his best friend from high school ended up leaving after his first year of university to find his true passions in life that were apparently far different from his initial applied study of microbiology. Moving out to Incheon to look for work, Chan had soon dropped off the face of the earth and left Minho with nothing but radio silence for a few years as he himself remained in Seoul.

Out of the blue, a month right after Minho’s 22nd birthday, he received a notification on his phone with a singular text reading: “I’m coming home.”

A week later, Chan was standing at his front door with two suitcases and a camper backpack in tow just as the sun was rising over his tiny one-bedroom apartment.

A warm hug and a handful of tears later, Minho came to learn how Chan was working part-time at a mechanic shop for six months before he crossed paths with and befriended two other guys around his age from the neighborhood -- one who was a recent high school graduate and the other who had graduated the year prior -- and banded together over their shared love of music. One thing led to another, and slowly but surely the three of them officially branded themselves as a musical trio aptly named 3RACHA where they uploaded their bedroom-produced tracks onto various sites across the internet and performed their songs in underground bars and abandoned warehouses.

The clock in Minho’s living room struck 8:30 p.m. when Chan promptly got up from the couch and said, “I have some people that I’d like for you to meet.”

Minho and Chan were already sitting at one of the cookstove tables in a crowded chicken galbi restaurant when Chan’s mysterious guests walked in.

The pair were on the shorter side -- one maybe three or so centimeters taller than the other, but the both of them small just the same.

Under the glaring fluorescent lights, Minho could make out the loose strands of blond waves mostly tucked away under the bucket hat worn by the taller of the two. And even with the atrocious choice of headgear shadowing half of his face, a captivating smile shone brilliantly from underneath that Minho couldn’t seem to look away from.

“Jisung! Changbin! Over here!” Chan waved to them with a happy shout.

After they settled down in their seats and had a quick round of introductions, Minho found that conversation with the four of them surprisingly flowed easily while their orders of meat simmered quietly on the grill. On the topic of games, Minho briefly mentioned how he was crowned the undefeated champion in foosball during the fifth grade. Jisung turned to face him for the first time that night and said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I bet I could kick your ass at it any day.”

At that moment, Jisung scooted closer to him when the party sitting behind them tried to get up and leave. Their hands accidentally brushed together in the process and something inside Minho’s chest fluttered.

Over bowls of bokumbap and cheese duk, Jisung and Minho eagerly chatted away amongst themselves with their voices mingling over the drowned out sounds of generic pop songs playing in the background and the happy drunk laughter around them.

Minho never believed in soulmates, but he could honestly say that he might have started believing in them after falling in love for the very first time that fateful night.

 

***

 

It’s three years later and Minho is on the cusp of turning 25 and still hopelessly in love.

One would think that he would have his life together by now: he’s been living on his own for the past four years since graduating from high school, working his way up through the perilous ranks of countless gigs and jobs as a backup dancer to a lead teacher at a small company to now co-owning his own dance studio as a prolific choreographer.

But alas, one would be very terribly wrong.

While yes, it’s true that Minho has all of these things -- a stable income, a roof over his head, a strong support system. But there’s just something that he hasn’t been able to grasp no matter how hard he tries.

Jisung.

Jisung is his best friend. The best of best of friends -- there’s no doubt about it. They confide in and console with one another over their deepest darkest secrets and worries, have countless inside jokes that nobody around them really understands or tries to, and spend time with themselves together more than with anyone else in their friend group.

It’s very clear to everyone, or at least to Minho, that they’re meant to be together. The problem is, he would like it -- prefer it, even -- if their relationship was meant for more.

For the majority of the time, Minho is able to ignore the annoying niggling thoughts in the back of his mind of the ‘what ifs’ or ‘what could bes’ and can go on about his day as per usual. But every now and then, there are those rare times that catch Minho completely off-guard where he finds himself staring off into space, daydreaming about what it would be like if he could hold Jisung’s hands under an endless blue sky as they stand in the middle of a tall grassy field with the sounds of the ocean waves crashing and church bells ringing in the far off distance.

It’s in those small, miniscule moments that Minho knows that he is truly and utterly fucked.

The trouble doesn’t really start until one evening in early June.

It’s a Friday, which means every other adult is off celebrating the end of another tiring work week. For Minho, it means making the weekly pilgrimage to Chan’s apartment with the rest of the crew as they feast over bucketfuls of fried chicken.

Minho is fortunate that he only needs to take the elevator from the fourteenth floor to the ninth where Chan happens to live in the same apartment complex as him. Well, more accurately, Chan and Woojin. While Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are still making music together as the three up-and-coming producing moguls that have recently taken over the country by storm with their latest chart-sweeping album release, they all live separately from one another. They meet for work at their studio space in Gangnam, but otherwise they go elsewhere for anything else outside of that such as casual get-togethers -- just like now.

Chan happened to meet Woojin online through a roommate-finder app over a year ago right around the time when Minho moved out of his old apartment to the his current place last spring. Woojin, a history teacher at a nearby high school in the area, was an instant match made in heaven for Chan who wanted to live with somebody that possessed the same qualities of friendliness, politeness, and cleanliness as him. Their cohabitation has been smooth-sailing ever since.

Changbin lives in an apartment complex exactly eighteen minutes walking distance from Minho’s. Although he lives alone on the fifth floor, he certainly isn’t lonely. Felix and Jeongin -- a physical therapist and a daycare teacher on the seventh -- as well as Hyunjin and Seungmin -- an interior designer and an attorney on the eighth -- live within the same apartment complex as him. They all met when their housing office decided to hold a small barbeque party for the tenants at the beginning of the year and quickly bonded after they had to collectively pull in their efforts to put out the grill that was accidentally set on fire by their landlord and evacuate everyone to safety.

And Jisung -- Jisung lives a mere two floors down directly below Minho on the twelfth. It’s one of the few inexplicable mysteries of the universe that Minho has to inevitably deal with and he’s not sure as to exactly why or how his life ended up being this way.

With all nine friends crammed into one apartment, it’s always a tight fit. Not that any of them mind much, since they all enjoy each other’s company. Relatively speaking.

“Stop stepping on my blazer! I just got it dry-cleaned it last week!”

“Huh, that’s weird. I thought I put my charger in my bag… Does somebody have a charger that I can borrow?”

“I’ll give you ₩20,000 if you drink this entire bottle of expired hot sauce.”

“Make that ₩30,000.”

“Has anybody seen a can of orange soda? I left it on the table and it’s not there anymore.”

“Shit, I think I got an oil stain on my shirt again.”

“Hey, guys!” Chan’s voice suddenly booms in the living room. “I just remembered something!”

Everyone immediately stops what they’re doing and turns to look at him as he brings out a large brown package hidden behind a bookshelf and sets it down in the middle of the room. “My little sister sent me a bunch of the Australian versions of the _Sixteen_ magazines. They just came in the mail the other day,” he says as he slides out a boxcutter from his back pocket with a flourish.

Changbin sits a bit taller in his seat on the floor, perked up. “Wait, is that the one that we’re featured in? The ‘Rising Artists’ interview?”

“Gimme, gimme! I wanna see!” Jisung cries as he launches himself off of the couch and almost trips over his own two feet as he rushes over to Chan’s side. “Hurry up, old man!”

“Okay, okay, hold on a sec,” Chan laughs as he cuts away at the last of the tape and opens up the box. “Well, guys -- here it is. And there’s more than enough to go around.”

A flurry of hands start shoving themselves into the box and the stack of magazines disappears one by one in a matter of seconds. Minho is the last to get up and grab a copy for himself, not wanting to risk any damages to himself by also joining into the frenzy. As they all settle back into their spots, eagerly scouring the magazine to find the exclusive article, Minho takes his time soaking in the bright colors and whimsical patterns that fill the vibrant pages. It’s not until Minho skims through a short blurb about a hip, new vegan cake shop in Strathfield that he flips the page and stops short.

“Dating Advice 101: How to Get Your Crush to Like You Back!” the title boasts with its obnoxious bubbly font and tacky clipart roses bordering all along the double-page spread. Before he even gets the chance to read the very first line, a voice suddenly speaks in his ear and he automatically snaps the magazine fully shut.

“Hey, did you get to our interview yet? I can’t believe they described me as a ‘shy but friendly puffy cheek angel’ like I’m some kind of dog up for adoption,” Jisung pouts.

Minho ignores the sweat that’s quickly forming on the back of his neck at how close Jisung’s face is to his and lets out a snort. “But your puffy cheeks _are_ your highlight point.”

Jisung sighs dramatically as he flops onto the ground next to him and rests his head on Minho’s shoulder. His palms are also starting to get clammy and he tries to rub off the sweat onto his jeans as discreetly as possible.

Jisung, completely oblivious to Minho’s internal meltdown, continues sulking. “I even dyed my hair blue right before the interview. Why couldn’t they talk about that?”

“Probably because you were covering it with yet another one of your uglyass bucket hats. Honestly, how many of those cursed objects do you own anyways?”

“Not enough,” Jisung says with a wistful expression now on his face. “I only have five, but I could always go for a sixth.”

Minho barks out a laugh. “God, no. The universe would implode on itself if you bought any more.”

“Hey!” Jisung swats at his arm as he keeps on laughing. “You’re just jealous because you want one too!”

“And you’re just delusional,” Minho says as he non-so gently flicks at Jisung’s forehead.

The two of them start to wrestle each other to the ground, until Felix frantically rushes over and pleads for them to stop before they hurt themselves, and they both collapse in an exhausted laughing heap.

 

***

 

When Minho finally holes himself back up in the safe refuge of his bedroom, he digs out the magazine that he had hastily stuffed into his canvas tote bag back at Chan and Woojin’s apartment before the nine of them rallied up for an intense group game of pictionary for the next two and a half hours. He sits on his bed and quickly flips through the seemingly endless glossy pages until he lands on the one page he hasn’t stopped thinking about since the moment he saw it.

‘Quick & easy steps to guarantee your crush to fall in love with you in just... 1, 2, 3!’ the catchline taunts at him in sparkly cursive text over a pixelated rainbow background.

Already by the first suggestion, he finds himself rolling his eyes. _‘Be yourself?’_ Minho scoffs as he shakes his head. _What kind of absolute garbage advice is that?_

Luckily, the rest of the article has some better advice to offer to him that’s noteworthy enough to consider.

There are some he overlooks.

‘Learn what your crush is passionate about’, ‘listen to your crush when they talk to you’, ‘make them laugh with your sense of humor’ -- he casts those suggestions aside, being that he already does all of those things in his everyday life and concludes that not much else can be done to be better at it or do more of.

For the rest, he finds himself nodding in approval as he scribbles furiously onto a discarded notepad that he found buried underneath a pile of old bank statements on his desk. He concentrates fiercely on the article, his eyes never taken off of the lilac-hued flowery pages, until he eventually looks down to see that the lined pages are now crammed full with his chicken scratch ideas.

He closes his notepad and gives himself a satisfied pat on the back.

It’s time to get this proverbial bread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life has honestly been wild this past month so !!! im putting this out into the world as a way to give myself a goodass laugh !!!!!
> 
> inspiration for this fic came from scott pilgrim vs the world, listening to the hannah montana album for two days straight, and that one time i watched my high school’s play of the merchant of venice


	2. Chapter 2

_5\. Make eye contact_

 

Minho talks to Jisung on a regular basis, so making eye contact is as uncomplicated and as easy as it could get.

It’s so wholly uncomplicated and easy that he kicks it all off the very next day when Jisung invites him out to have samgyupsal at one of their favorite neighborhood spots for dinner. They’re sitting across from each other, the two of them throwing back shots after shots of low-rate soju and shoveling in mouthfuls of fresh pork belly meat that fill their empty stomachs.

Through the heavy smoke hanging in the room, Minho stares intently at Jisung as he’s busy retelling a rousing tale about the time Seungmin accidentally ran for student body council during high school. He abruptly stops his story while recounting how Seungmin not only ran for class president but won the race as well and says, “Is there something on my face?”

“What?” Minho blinks. “No. Why?”

Jisung furrows his brows before shaking head. “Nothing.”

Minho’s gaze doesn’t waver from Jisung’s face for the rest of the night, but he notices that Jisung is looking away from him more often. The smoke must be getting in his eyes, he thinks.

Hours later, they’re clambering into a taxi as they head home together after finishing their meal. Jisung is busy giggling away while Minho tries to hold himself upright with a hand around Jisung’s waist on their long and treacherous walk back to the complex, his face feeling flushed and warm from all of the laughter and drinking.

He struggles to keep his eyes open and look at Jisung when they eventually stumble into Jisung’s apartment, his eyelids threatening to close shut with each and every step that he takes. He finally caves into the alcohol the second that his body hits the lumpy mattress and sinks into the bed. He can faintly feel Jisung moving around him as he tries to make himself more comfortable and Minho yawns.

Promising himself that he’ll try harder next time, he wearily tosses a heavy leg over Jisung’s hip as Jisung presses his back up against his chest before he loses all coherent thought and slips into a deep slumber.

 

***

 

They’re browsing through a record store a couple of days later on a Tuesday afternoon when Minho tries again. He’s tagging along with Jisung, who’s currently on the hunt for some jazz albums to sample tracks from to use for an upcoming show he’s playing at. While he’s busy rifling through the shelves upon shelves of discounted vinyls with an extreme hyper-awareness and focus, Minho walks up and down the aisles with a more laid back ease.

Minho just finished shooting a commercial the other day for a popular sports brand, so he’s looking forward to spending his free day relaxing -- even if it’s more so of him and Jisung just dragging each other along to every corner of the city to run their own personal errands rather than having pure unadulterated fun.

Minho picks up a cassette tape from the disco section and inspects the cover front to back. “Hey, I know this band.”

“Hmm?” Jisung says absently as he looks over his shoulder at him. “What?”

“My parents really like them. My dad would play their songs in the car all of the time whenever he’d drive me to school.”

“In Gimpo?”

“Yeah. Haven’t been there in awhile. I think the last time I visited was New Years.”

“At least you saw your parents during New Years. We were touring in Malaysia at the time,” Jisung frowns. “I probably haven’t seen my family since Christmas.”

“Yeah, they were nice. Your grandma was there too and she even took us ice fishing at that Pyeongchang festival, remember?”

A smile now spreads on Jisung’s face. “Oh, yeah! She did! And you caught three fish that day! I should really bring all of the guys out there together next time. It would be so much fun.”

The lightning sensation of a sharp knife pierces through Minho’s chest, but he chooses to ignore it and gives a noncommittal grunt instead.

Over an hour later, Jisung successfully manages to amass an array of vinyls stacked precariously on top of one another in his arms. As they’re waiting in line to pay, he shares his ideas with Minho about the latest setlist changes he’s making for the show. He has a tendency to gesture a lot with his hands whenever he talks, so it’s a bit hard for him to do so now with the amount of things he’s carrying but that obviously doesn’t stop him from trying. Minho relishes in the way Jisung’s eyes dance around the room, taking in the colorful decorations and lively ambience of the store, as his voice raises higher and higher the more excited he gets as he speaks.

“So I already recorded the janggu and gayageum beats last week. There’s a remix I found the other day too of that future bass song I sent you awhile ago and I think it’d layer well if I added more of those distorted synths to it and - uh, Minho? You good?”

“Huh?”

Jisung waves it off with a hand. “Forget it.”

Minho opens his mouth and is about to ask what Jisung is wanting him to exactly forget, but he’s already stepping up to the cash register and making his purchase.

The conversation is lost by the time Jisung finishes and they’re walking out the double doors to the shoe store across the street to buy Minho a new pair of sneakers. Minho can’t find the words to pick up from where they left off, but he decides to let it go once he sees Jisung excitedly bounding over to him with a pair of checkered high-top platform shoes to show off to him.

He’ll think about it later when he gets home.

 

***

 

Minho finds himself up late one night the next week. Unable to sleep due to a massive schedule change for a music video that he’s directing the choreography for, he lays in his bed painfully wide awake as he stares up at the dark shadows moving across his ceiling. Suddenly, his phone by the side table pings with a new text notification. Reaching over to grab it, he sees Jisung’s name flash briefly on the screen. He immediately scrambles out of bed after sending a quick text back, throwing on a light jacket over his sleep clothes and heading out the apartment with only his phone in hand.

Jisung is already standing in the lobby, dressed similarly with a loose flannel shirt and faded sweatpants. In the harsh yellow light, the bags under his eyes are even more obvious and apparent. Minho probably looks the same too. It’s a little past 3 a.m. and the streets are completely empty as they walk down the endless winding path along the Han River, listening intently to the chirps of crickets and the calm waters of the river rush past them.

Jisung starts to vere off to the side towards a small patch of grass where gentle waves lap up over the rocky edge. Minho quickly follows suit.

They’re standing next to each other, looking out at the blinking lights of the city across the way from them, when Jisung says, “I couldn’t sleep.”

He scrubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms and sighs. “It’s like - I can’t sleep. I’ve been working on this new project for more than ten hours straight in my room and I just really needed to take a break, but I just can’t _sleep_. My brain just keeps buzzing, like it won’t leave me alone.”

He sounds absolutely exhausted. Minho stays quiet.

It’s not unnatural for them to end up like this. He can’t remember how or when exactly it started, but from the very beginning they were both notoriously known within their group of friends for being workaholic insomniacs. Somewhere along the way, they decided to go out on long walks together around their deserted neighborhood whenever either of their sleep troubles were getting too much to handle alone. They’ve spent countless late nights and early mornings together just walking and talking. Or sometimes not even talking at all, just walking side by side as they spend their time quietly in each other’s company.

Jisung is now silent. Minho chooses to finally open up his mouth and says, “Well, I guess we’re both fucked then.”

Jisung tries to smother his giggle behind his sleeve but fails quite miserably at doing so. “God, I know. What I’d give to be able to have one week of good sleep.”

Minho tilts his head towards him. “That’d be nice. Imagine a world where we didn’t have to rely on coffee every day to keep us sane.”

“No way, I love the taste of coffee way too much to give it up.”

“I thought you loved chocolate.”

“Yeah, and? I love both!”

Minho laughs. “You love a lot of things.”

Jisung bumps his shoulder in feign annoyance. Minho shoves him back, though it’s hard enough that Jisung actually almost falls into the water and starts yelling at him for trying to drown him. They bicker for about eight more seconds before Minho trips on himself over thin air and Jisung bowls over with laughter.

They start chattering about meaningless, lighthearted things. Even in almost complete darkness, Jisung’s eyes still manage to sparkle every time he talks. What exactly he’s talking about, Minho wouldn’t know. His mind is currently preoccupied with other things -- like being conflicted with the fact that he’s staring at Jisung’s lips more than his eyes, which is what he’s supposed to be doing, but he figures that it’s still a part of his face so it should be fine.

He doesn’t even realize that Jisung has trailed off until he says, “Why - what are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“But you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh,” Jisung says. “Nevermind.”

A lone cargo ship blows its horn in the distance. Jisung clears his throat. “Ah, it’s getting late.”

“Okay, let’s go home then.”

When he eventually gets back to his apartment and climbs back into bed for some momentary rest, Minho starts to think about how he doesn’t feel like anything has changed over the past two weeks.

He fishes out his notepad from inside his side table drawer and frowns at the list as the early morning light seeps through his curtains. Nothing about the first suggestion worked well, if at all. He reluctantly crosses it off with a cheap ballpoint pen and sighs to himself.

Maybe this wasn’t as easy as he initially thought it’d be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> constantly thinking about how we got a version of the woochan moment where chan was helping woojin ride a skateboard during the i am you mv bts but instead it’s minho trying to teach jisung how to play tap ball while jisung keeps hitting himself in the face on livestream
> 
> and they say that modern romance is dead


	3. Chapter 3

_8\. Buy them a hot drink_

 

Minho thinks this next step should be simple enough when he gets ready to leave the apartment one sunny Thursday morning and heads down to Roosters. It’s a convenient three blocks down from his place and he frequents the cafe on a regular basis. Occasionally he even bumps into Changbin, as his older sister happens to own said establishment and he lends a helping hand there from time to time. It’s still bustling with office workers and university students alike by the time he walks through the tall wooden doors at 9:22 a.m.

“Well, well, well,” a shrill voice calls out to him as he steps up to the cash register. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Haha, very funny. I see that your sense of humor continues to plummet rapidly downhill every time I see you. Must be your old age.”

Changbin crosses his arms in a huff. “Just because you don’t appreciate my greetings doesn’t mean that I deserve this slander. Also, you’re a year older than me so what does that make you?”

“I really should figure out what your work schedule is so that I don’t keep swinging by during your shift and feel my brain cells deplete each time I come here.”

Changbin lets out a deafening shriek, causing the patrons and baristas sitting and standing nearby to all shoot him mildly concerned looks.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. Can you just take my order?”

“Fine, what’ll it be?” Changbin sniffs. “The usual? Medium iced Americano with less sugar, less ice, and an extra shot of espresso?”

“Um,” Minho says. “No. Can I actually get a medium hot chocolate?”

Changbin’s finger pauses as he moves to punch in the order. “Hot chocolate?” He looks up from the screen and squints up at Minho. “ _You?_ Since when in the hell did you ever start liking that sugary crap anyways? You don’t even like chocolate syrup in drinks because you said that it gives you constipation.”

“I said that it gives me headaches, not constipation you -”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute. And hot chocolate? Today? It’s literally 26 degrees outside right now. Why in the fuck would you want to order that?”

“Okay, you know what? I’m just gonna take my money and go -”

“Oh,” Changbin breathes out. His face then spreads into a wild grin and he gives him a smug look. “Oh, I see.”

“Glad to hear that your eyes are finally working,” Minho says flatly with a deadpan expression. “Can you just ring me up now? I’m already running late as it is.”

“Sure, sure. That’ll be ₩4,500 from you, good sir.” Changbin whistles an annoying tune to himself as he deftly takes Minho’s credit card from his hand and swipes it alongside the tablet.

Minho is shoving his card back into his wallet when Changbin holds up the receipt between his scrawny fingers with a wink and says, “We’ll even give you a slice of cheesecake. On the house. You can thank me later.”

Minho snatches the paper out of Changbin’s hands and looks at him in disgust. “All of hell could freeze over and I’d still never thank you.”

 

***

 

Unlike the cafe, the skate shop is rather empty by the time Minho arrives to Seogyo. Jisung is at the front, busy comparing two sets of wheels with his bright pastel pink penny board leaning against the glass counter, when he spots Minho walking through the automatic doors and breaks out into a wide smile.

“Hey!” Jisung shouts with both arms lifted up, waving at him excitedly. “What took so long? I wanted us to skate along the river before the lunch hour rush kicked in.”

Minho shrugs as he makes his way over. “Got held up by traffic. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Almost thought that you forgot about me. That would’ve sucked. I was really looking forward to today too.”

Before he has the chance to respond, Jisung lowers his gaze to the lidded coffee cup and paper bag in Minho’s hands and tilts his head. “Did you stop by Roosters this morning?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Nice. Was Changbin working today? He wasn’t there when I visited last week.”

“Unfortunately,” Minho grunts as he shoves the cup and paper bag unceremoniously into Jisung’s hands. “It’s for you.”

“Huh?”

“Just take it.”

“Oh, uh, sure. Okay.” Jisung stares down at the cup for a few seconds before he raises it up to his lips and his eyes blow wide. “Is this… Is this hot chocolate?”

“Well, obviously.”

“And you bought me hot chocolate… In the middle of July?”

Minho throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Why do people keep saying that like it’s a weird thing?!”

“‘People?’” Jisung says before shaking his head furiously. “And no, no, no, I’m not saying it’s weird! I just - thanks. Thanks for buying it for me. That’s all.”

Minho tugs at his earlobe with antsy fingers. “Really?”

“I mean, it’s a little weird considering it’s blazing hot outside. But still! I -”

Minho doesn’t hear the rest of Jisung’s sentence. He’s too busy conjuring up different ways to murder his now ex-friend Seo Changbin for making him deal with his insufferable personality earlier this morning, all for the sake of his gift ending up going to waste and his bank account ending up being ₩4,500 poorer.

He’ll have to see if there are any shovels on sale at the home improvement store when he stops by later today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minho having the nerve to make fun of changbin for complaining about his room situation as if jisung himself wasn’t doing the exact same thing literally a minute before and minho automatically agreed to switch rooms with him without any hesitation or even asking why...... bro......... you are in So Fucking Deep……………
> 
> also rest in pieces changbin lol


	4. Chapter 4

_14\. Impress them with your hidden talents_

 

Minho is a man of many talents.

He can accurately imitate bird calls, draw a perfect circle, is proficient in air guitar, and knows how to tie a shoelace using only one hand.

It’s also safe to say that none of these talents make him much of a romantic interest -- or, quite frankly, appealing.

At the very least, there is one thing that he feels very strongly and confident about: his muscles. By no means is he extremely buff or close to any standard of a bodybuilder, but he’s toned and sculpted and rather proud of it. He works out daily on different exercise machines and takes weekly kickboxing classes at the local gym. He even participates in a marathon or two every year and on top of that, dances for a living. He’s got a lot to show off for, in terms of fitness.

There’s a slight problem though -- he has never once seen Jisung step foot into a gym. He’s physically active, yes. He gets around most parts of the city on his penny board, swims at Eurwangni Beach whenever summer eventually rolls around, and frequently goes on walks along his favorite hiking trails to take photos of the wildlife and ever-changing scenery. However, trying to convince him to tag along with him to last place on Earth he’d ever find him will be a true testament of strength.

It’s the following Monday and Minho, Jisung, and Hyunjin are at Jeongin and Felix’s apartment for a video game party. Felix is at a yoga workshop where he’s camping out in the woods somewhere outside of the city for the week, so Jeongin is the only one at home to control the chaotic trio.

Already within the thirty minutes of them arriving, Hyunjin has knocked into the floor lamp twice, Jisung has dropped Felix’s prized cat-shaped ceramic mug onto the ground, and Minho has twisted off the right knob of the bathroom sink. Jeongin’s dolphin-pitched screeches at them keep getting louder and louder. It’s an absolute miracle that none of his neighbors are barging in through the door and threatening to call the police.

Luckily once they boot up the game console in the living room, all order is restored in the world.

After two hours of working up a sweat from jumping up and down and waving their remote controllers in the air to American Top 40 songs, they take a ten minute breather before playing some more. Hyunjin and Jeongin challenge each other to a virtual cooking game, while Jisung and Minho sit around the kitchen island scarfing down the deluxe extra spicy jalapeno pepperoni pizza that just got delivered to their apartment.

Minho is reaching over the counter to munch on the black olives that Jisung has picked off from his own slice and discarded onto his plate when he says, “Come to the gym with me.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow as he takes a large bite out of his olive-free pizza. “Now?”

“It can be later. We can stop by our building if you want to change.”

Jisung stares at him now like he’s grown a third arm. “And why would I willingly want to go to the gym when I have plenty of better things to do?”

“I’ll treat you to ice cream after,” he bargains.

“I’m lactose intolerant, Minho.”

“But you eat frozen yogurt! And egg salad sandwiches!” he squawks. “And just today, I saw you drinking milk tea!”

“Touché. But seriously, there’s nothing that you can say that will bribe me to go with you to that hellscape of a place. You go by yourself all the time anyways, so what’s the big deal?”

Minho mentally launches Jisung into the burning pits of the sun before he drops down to the floor and starts to do push ups right after, of course, ripping off his shirt and tossing it to the side.

“Uh - what the actual fuck is going on.”

“If you’re not coming with me,” Minho says through gritted teeth as he lowers himself to the ground for a fourth rep. “I’ll just do it here.”

The situation doesn’t get any better when Jeongin wanders into the kitchen five minutes later and screams at him while trying to get a slice of pizza. “Just go to the gym, you freak! You’re blocking the way! And why are you half-naked?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jisung: thinks minho is 2 hot 2 handle, is jealous 
> 
> also jisung: tells minho literally one day after meeting him to stop using honorifics with him, decides in less than a year’s time that they are in fact soulmates and announces it yet again to the whole wide world half a year later as if anybody would ever forget or think otherwise


	5. Chapter 5

_15\. Write them a love note_

 

Minho has been horribly wrong about the level of difficulty of any of the suggestions he’s tried to execute so far. None of them have worked out successfully, which is a bummer considering that he’s been trying to do something about his feelings for once for the past two months. After giving himself a much deserved mental break for a few weeks, August rolls around and he finally has the willpower to start again.

Revisiting his notepad, he spots an idea about writing a love note scrawled out in tiny letters at the bottom of one of the pages. He’s intrigued by the thought, thinking that it’s actually quite a smart move to gain some insight first to see if Jisung’s even interested in the prospect of dating before he pursues anything further that he might be uncomfortable with. It’d be way too easy for Jisung to figure out that it’s him if he simply wrote the note by hand though, so he figures out a clever way to work around it -- magazines. Not wanting to sacrifice his own precious copy of _Sixteen_ , he finds an old autoparts magazine that he’s had stashed away in the back of his closet for god knows how long. It’s somewhat taxing, considering he has to cut each and every letter by hand for each and every sentence and has to painstakingly put them together with a semi-dried out glue stick that he found in his kitchen drawer.

After mulling over what to say for exactly eighteen minutes, he opts to keep his message short and simple. He eventually ends up with this carefully crafted masterpiece:

 

HAN JISUNG

I THINK YOU ARE CUTE AND SOMETIMES I WANT TO KISS YOUR FACE

 

YOUR SECRET ADMIRER

 

Rather proud of his achievement, he folds the paper up into as small of a square as he possibly can before slipping it underneath Jisung’s front door while he’s out at the recording studio for the night. Now all Minho has to do is sit back and relax until Jisung finds the note.

  

***

 

They’re lounging together on opposite ends of Jisung’s couch the next day on a lazy Sunday evening, watching reruns of an animated cartoon show in the dark with the television volume turned down low. Minho yawns as Jisung lifts his arms up and arches his body from side to side, probably in an attempt to stretch out his tired muscles after the two of them had biked along the Cheonggyecheon earlier in the afternoon. Minho really should think of scheduling an appointment at the wellness center with Felix sometime this month to work out the kinks in his back and neck.

The show switches over to a commercial break, advertising a new refrigerator model with the latest and greatest ice cube-making technology, when Jisung says, “I think I might have a hitman after me or something.”

Minho, who’s curled up with one of Jisung’s many abnormally large stuffed animals, lifts up his head groggily and turns to look at him with confusion. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I got this weird note underneath my front door the other day,” Jisung says as he pulls out a strangely familiar piece of paper that’s now been all crinkled up from inside of his sweatshirt pocket. Unfolding the note and smoothing it out as much as possible, Jisung shoves Minho’s own painfully embarrassing creation in his face. “See? The letters are all cut out serial killer style, so if I go missing within the next few days you know what’s up.”

“Did you - did you even read the note?”

“Uh, no? I accidentally spilled some coffee on it right when I put it down on my counter, so it got all soggy and messed up before I could even read it.”

Minho feels his left eyebrow twitch and the slow creeping of a headache coming on.

“I should just toss it in the bin. No use keeping it around now.” Jisung promptly crumples the note up into a ball and makes a free throw shot at the trashcan by the television, letting out a loud whoop when it bounces off of the rim and into the basket.

Minho closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. Looks like that massage appointment might be happening to him sooner than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you mean to tell me that minho went ahead and corrected the mc on live radio saying that he and jisung not only match the most bc they eat the same foods but bc they’re on the same wavelength and think alike and that they communicate well ??? im fine ?????
> 
> also congrats to stray kids for completing their usa unveil tour in houston today !!!! i hope that everyone has been having fun at the concerts and can see them next time if they haven't yet someday *:･ﾟ✧


	6. Chapter 6

_17\. Vocalize what you appreciate about them_

 

The train thankfully isn’t packed by the time Minho, Jisung, and Seungmin race down the station steps to the platform and leap through the automatic doors right as they close shut behind them.

“I haven’t ran this hard since middle school,” Seungmin says out of breath as he collapses onto the hard plastic seats.

“You’re one to talk. You literally played a tournament with your company baseball team just last week,” Minho says, panting slightly harder.

“Shut your pie holes. At least the both of you are somewhat athletic,” Jisung wheezes as he falls on his side and crashes onto Minho’s shoulder.

“We are never running for the last train again, you hear? And Jisung -- god, you’re so sweaty.”

“It’s a natural bodily function.” Jisung turns his face to glare up at him. “Stop being such a big wuss.”

“Can you at least lean better against me, then? Your elbow is literally digging into my ribs.“

Jisung reluctantly readjusts himself and leans more comfortably against Minho, who lets out a sigh of relief. Seungmin cracks open a bottle of water he purchased at the punk rock show that the three of them had just left seeing and starts gulping it down.

“Mind sharing that with us?”

“No way. I’m not gonna swap germs with you. Get your own water, Minho.”

“You know what? Fuck your water, Seungmin.”

“Yeah! Fuck your water, Seungmin! You can share your own gross germs with yourself,” Jisung says as he sticks out his tongue.

Minho and Jisung instantly bring their hands up to give each other a solid high five for their witty comeback. Minho finds himself marveling at different features of Jisung’s hand when their hands meet and fingers clasp together. Slightly knobby and tiny, but warm and soft -- he’s catalogued every groove and crease of his hands and the weight in which they feel when held in his own from every time that their hands have touched. Their hands fit so well together that he sometimes can’t help but think about how perfect they are, as though they were made for him.

“Your hands are small,” he finds himself saying.

Jisung snaps himself upright in his seat, jerking Minho a bit as the two of them are still holding hands, and yells, “Are you calling me short?!”

“No?!” Minho’s brows furrow. “What? How did you even -”

“You’re literally only 2 centimeters taller than me, douchebag!”

Minho can vaguely hear Seungmin spitting out his drink from somewhere in the background. He gives up trying to salvage what little there is left to save of the situation and shouts back at Jisung instead.

“Okay, just so we’re clear -- I’m 2.6 centimeters taller than you, dumbass!”

 

***

 

_That didn’t work out well at all_ , Minho thinks to himself mournfully as he’s slumped over his desk at the dance studio the next day. There’s a small office space upstairs in the building where he and the other teachers can lounge around in on the rolling squeaky chairs, as well as do some minor bookkeeping and other boring business things on their shared work computer.

“You feeling alright?” Ryujin, one of the younger choreographers on the team, says as she enters the room.

“Could be better,” Minho sniffs.

She turns around and gives him a pitying look. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. It’s not like you could help me out or anything.”

“Ah,” she nods solemnly. “Adult problems.”

“Let me share with you some words of wisdom, Ryujin. Everything just continues to go downhill from here once you hit your mid-20s.”

“I’m already 22, so I still have some time before my inevitable doom.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“If there’s anything that I could advise you with,” she says as she takes off her coat from a hook against the wall. “It’s to not think too hard about it. Just be cool.”

As they say their goodbyes when Ryujin leaves the studio for the day, Minho props his chin up on his hand and hums. _Just be cool, huh?_

He slips on his own jacket a few minutes later and is about to head outside for an early lunch when his phone suddenly starts to ring. He picks it up as soon as he steps out onto the street and immediately hears Jisung’s voice on the other end of the line desperately saying: “I just finished work and I’m about to die. Please tell me you’re free and that you’re at the studio because I’m literally only two blocks away from you if you’re there and I’m starving.”

Minho laughs into the speaker. “Well, if you insist.”

They decide to grab a bite to eat at a popular fast food chain about a seven minute walk from where they are. It’s particularly crowded today because it’s a Saturday, but they don’t mind as they manage to snag a high table seat in the corner. With not much debate, they settle on splitting a large order of fries and a vanilla milkshake along with their main meal of two deluxe hamburgers with extra pickles that Minho helps to carry to the table when it’s ready. It’s more than what they typically would order, but Jisung insists on footing the bill in celebration of him wrapping up another successful recording.

“I feel like I can finally breathe again,” Jisung says as he pokes a straw into the flimsy lid of the cup and takes a happy sip.

“Is this the song that you guys started four months ago?”

“Yeah, even though now it’s probably closer to five. The lyrics never turned out right and the beat was always off. But after we took a break from it and revisited the demo in July, it all started to come together.” Jisung shrugs. “Not even really sure what changed, but I’m just glad that we didn’t completely scrap the idea and that it all worked out in the end.”

“That’s cool. What’s it like?”

“I’m not telling you anything. It’s a secret. You’re just gonna have to wait like the rest of the world until October.”

“C’mon, that’s so far away,” Minho begins to whine. “Don’t I deserve to know what it is after all of these months I’ve spent having to listen to you cry over this track? All of these months of you putting me through this misery and dragging me along with you? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Fine, fine.” Jisung rolls his eyes. “It’s a lot more sentimental than our previous releases and we were inspired by our trip to Geoje last April. There, happy?”

“Yes,” Minho says, now beaming with a pleased expression as he hooks a leg around Jisung’s dangling ones and yanks him from underneath the table in childish glee.

Jisung throws his head back and laughs, hands clutching onto his stomach as he ineffectively tries and fails to kick himself free from Minho’s unshakeable hold. “God, you’re such an asshole.”

Minho feels his heart skip a beat. Jisung laughs so easily and so often. Just looking at him laughing fills his insides with such indescribable joy. The sound alone is addicting enough -- always so honest and genuine and full of life. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t try to tell Jisung a joke, no matter how dumb or silly it is, just so that he can hear him laugh. It helps that their sense of humor is so compatible too. Minho probably hasn’t laughed this much or this hard in his life before meeting Jisung, let alone know that he was capable of laughing this much or this hard.

He thinks back to Ryujin’s advice and tries a much more cool and casual approach with delivering his compliment this time.

“You’re always laughing so loud,” Minho says while chewing on his hamburger.

He’s suddenly confused when Jisung slowly stops laughing and casts his eyes downward at the table. “Oh, uh,” he says as he quietly coughs into his hand. “Sorry.”

An awkward silence falls over them. They finish the rest of their meal without exchanging much after that besides a few short words here and there. The milkshake that had been left sitting in between them has melted away into a watery lukewarm slush. It leaves an unsatisfied sugary taste in Minho’s mouth by the time he takes a sip from it at the end of their meal.

 

***

 

It’s hard to mull over the strange tension that surrounded him and Jisung at the end of lunch over the weekend when Minho becomes swamped with back-to-back schedules the following Monday. Soon, it’s Friday again and Minho finds himself sitting in the middle of Chan and Woojin’s living room for their weekly hangout. All nine of them are gathered here today with the specific intention to marathon a five-part movie series in preparation for the upcoming sixth installment of the film that they’ve already bought advanced screening tickets to see together on opening day.

Feeling rather tuckered out from a crazy work week, he sits back and quietly observes the rest of the group from his spot on the couch. Felix and Hyunjin are having some sort of tickle fight with Jeongin on the floor, Seungmin is showing off his mediocre beatboxing skills to Changbin who looks on at him mildly impressed as they sit on a couple of folding chairs, and Woojin is huddled up in the kitchen in an attempt to make a food delivery call for probably way too many orders of jjajangmyun and tangsuyuk.

“I wish we got jjampong instead, but the jjajangmyun from that corner place above the laundromat is pretty good so I can’t complain.”

Minho looks up to see Jisung walking over to him through the middle of the crossfire between Jeongin throwing his slipper at Hyunjin’s head and Chan flinging his body in front of him to try and stop him.

Jisung plops himself down and joins him on the couch as Minho says, “We could go out for jjampong on Sunday if you want. I’ve got a master class to teach tomorrow, so I don’t think I’ll be able to get out until close to 10:30 p.m.”

“Really?” Jisung’s eyes light up. “We don’t have to go out to a restaurant to eat jjampong, you know. We could just order in and eat at my place. Or your place. Doesn’t matter.”

“If you’re suggesting my place just because you want to steal that hoodie I bought from Helsinki, then the answer is no.”

“Hey, now. It’s not stealing if you’re the one that told me that I could borrow it first,” Jisung smirks as he leans in towards Minho’s face. “And it’s not my fault if I end up actually wearing it.”

As Woojin sits down on the other end of the couch with a remote in hand to switch on the DVD setting and presses play, Jisung slides over closer to him until their shoulders touch and thighs press up against each other.

Minho likes the way that they naturally gravitate towards one another. No matter where they are or how far apart they start, they always seem to end up together. Being by Jisung’s side is always so easy and effortless, and his heart feels so refreshed and relaxed whenever he’s with him. Out of the whole entire world, there’s really no place that he’d rather be.

He’s tired of overthinking about what he wants to say and how to say it, so he turns to look at Jisung dead in the eyes and says, “You keep ending up next to me all of the time.”

Jisung stares right back at him.

“Ah,” Jisung says carefully after a moment. “Yeah… I guess I do.”

There’s a slight pause before he abruptly gets up from the couch and says, “Um, I’m gonna go grab a snack.”

Minho brain doesn’t even have a chance to register what just happened before Jisung leaves his sight and comes out from the kitchen seconds later with a small bag of popcorn in hand.

But instead of walking over to sit back down on the couch with him, he heads straight towards Felix and Hyunjin. He settles onto the floor in between the two of them and rips open his bag of popcorn without a single glance back at Minho.

Minho feels his lungs collapsing inside of him. He opens his mouth to call out Jisung’s name, but his throat is tight and the only thing that he can do is to stare at the empty space that’s now next to him where Jisung used to be. He raises his head back up only when he feels someone’s gaze on him and sees Woojin giving him a sympathetic look.

His throat closes tighter and he forces himself to face the television to watch the movie that’s currently playing on-screen. These moments used to be fun. It was fun getting to listen to Jisung whisper his play-by-play commentary to him and having the people around them shush them for being too loud or too noisy. It was fun getting to prank Jisung with multiple jump scares if they were watching something particularly spooky, even though he would always run the risk of having a hard kick to the shins that would leave him bruised by the end of the night. It was fun getting to share snacks together and having mini food fights whenever the two of them got particularly bored and were in the mood to get on each other’s nerves.

But now they’re sitting over a meter apart and Minho has never felt so desperately lonely in his entire life before.

If Minho thought that it was torture living with these feelings bottled up inside of him, it was even worse trying to voice them out loud. A painful thought festering in the back of his mind starts to wish that he should have never even tried to begin with.

He spends the rest of the night drowning in his own misery while the rest of his friends continue watching the movie, unaware of his complete lack of attention to anything happening around him. He only finds some form of solace that night when he slips under the covers in his own apartment and lays awake listening to the rhythmic sound of late summer rain gently tapping against his bedroom window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the_tony_rich_project_nobody_knows.mp3 plays loudly in the distance*


	7. Chapter 7

The world is truly an unfair place for Minho.

After spending the entire weekend mentally beating himself up and listening to a self-curated playlist of sad love songs while eating half a tub of expired ice cream, he finally drags his body to the bathroom after a long Tuesday at the studio that’s left him sticky with sweat before he allows himself to continue wallowing further in bed for the fifth night in a row.

Minho scrubs furiously at his scalp as he works in the shampoo in the tangles of his overgrown bangs that are a constant reminder of a much-needed trip to the hair salon. Blankly staring at the stained off-white tiles of his bathroom walls as he stands under the showerhead with water cascading down his face and back, he tries to think of what life was like before he got himself into this clusterfuck of a horrid mess.

_None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for that magazine and that goddamn notepad._

Through the heavy steam clouding his vision and the water pounding loudly against his ears, a light bulb dimly flickers on inside of Minho’s head.

_If it wasn’t for that goddamn -_

Minho immediately shuts off the water and jumps out of the shower within a flash. Haphazardly drying himself off with a towel as he stumbles into the bedroom to slap on his wire frame glasses and tug on the closest articles of clothing around him, he snatches up the notepad laying on top of his dresser before sprinting out of his apartment door in his cheap ₩1,000 store sandals with a slam.

Racing down the fourteen flights of stairs, he continues running at full speed until he finally reaches the ground floor and crashes through the back entrance to the outside garbage disposal area of his complex. With absolute zero hesitation, he hurls the notepad into open mouth of the dumpster and feels a minor sense of satisfaction when he hears it hit the bottom of the rusting bin with a resounding metallic echo.

Dry heaving loudly as he bends over and clutches onto his knees from all of the energy he just exerted, he doesn’t notice that someone is approaching him from behind until he hears a voice suddenly call out in the dark.

“What are you doing out here? Garbage collection day isn’t until Thursday.”

Minho whips his head around to see Jisung standing at the same back entrance he had ran out of just a few minutes prior. The fluorescent light from the doorway gives his sleep-ruffled hair a warm angelic halo as he shoots Minho a curious look in his oversized cotton jacket and thin baggy shorts.

“I could say the same for you.” He quickly straightens up his back as best as he can, though he’s still struggling to catch his breath and winces when his lungs push against his ribcage. “What are you doing out here? It’s almost midnight.”

“I heard a loud bang from your place while I was going back to my room, so I followed you out here to see if something was wrong.”

Jisung looks so unusually timid as he tugs at the billowing fabric of his sleeves and chews at his bottom lip.

“It’s okay, there’s nothing to worry about.” Minho offers him what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile. “You can go back upstairs.”

The smile automatically slips off of his face and his eyes widen, however, when Jisung slowly steps out from the doorway and walks across the dirt ground until he finally stops to stand right in front of him face-to-face.

Minho’s mouth opens and shuts, but the words are lost at the tip of his tongue as Jisung stares up at him with those heartstopping starry eyes of his.

“You’ve been acting different,” he starts in a quiet voice. “You haven’t been acting like yourself at all lately.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I… I don’t know. I can’t really explain it… You’ve been making me feel weird? I think that’s it. It’s confusing.”

“Weird?”

“I know that you’re nice and that you’re a nice person, and that you are always kind to me. You treat me like… we’re equal, you know? But,” Jisung shifts on his feet a bit and looks down at the ground. “There are some things that you’ve said that sometimes hurt my feelings, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m thinking too much about it or if I’m being too sensitive or overreacting or something.”

Minho feels his gut twist tightly in his stomach. Whatever words were stuck in his throat before come tumbling out now in a hurried frantic rush.

“No, no, no, you’re never being too sensitive or too much of anything. I don’t even think that’s a bad thing to be at all, but -- Jisung. Just know that I would never do anything to purposefully be mean to you. I don’t like to hurt your feelings and I don’t ever want to hurt you and I’m really sorry that I did that to you.”

Jisung slowly moves his gaze back up and gives him a small smile. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Thanks for saying that.”

“I - Thanks.” Minho can’t help but give a small smile back. “Thanks for forgiving me.”

They stare quietly at each other for a few seconds longer before Jisung furrows his brows. “But what was up with all of those things you said to me? Those comments about me being short and always loud and stuff?”

“That’s not - they weren’t supposed to be mean. They were supposed to be nice because -”

Minho’s mouth suddenly feels dry. The words are starting to get stuck in his throat again.

Jisung lifts a single brow as he patiently waits for him to elaborate further. “Because?”

“Because. It’s because - uh.” Every pore in his body is beginning to sweat profusely. The tips of his ears grow hot as he finally manages to stammer out, “It - it’s because. I like. You.”

He balls his hands up into small fists to stop them from shaking and says again with more feeling and conviction this time. ”I like you.”

The space between them falls silent. A cold wind blows through and rustles the trees above them. A large moving truck rumbles down the street. A lone dog barks in the distance.

Jisung blinks. “Uh, yeah -- duh. Of course you like me.”

“No!” Minho shouts as he wildly flails his arms around in the air. “I mean ‘I like you’ as in I like you!”

“Yeah, and? This isn’t making any sense.”

“How is this not making any sense?! ‘I like you’ as in I want to make out with you and hold hands with you and date you in a romantic way, you giant fucking buffoon!”

Jisung just tilts his head at him, completely unfazed. “But I already know that you like me though.”

Minho feels his entire brain go on the fritz and thrown into a tailspin. He screams into the universe with picture-perfect eloquence: “What?!”

“I thought you already knew that I liked you too, so I just figured -”

_“What?!”_

“Yeah, I mean, I always thought that you were hot. Like literally the second that I saw you. I even texted Chan that same night and asked about you right after I got home from dinner the first time we met.” Jisung pauses. “Are you seriously shocked by this?”

Minho sputters out, “Of course I am! The guy I’ve been lowkey crushing over for almost three years says that he’s liked me back this whole entire time!”

“It was pretty highkey actually, but,” Jisung says as he gives him a lopsided smile with that tiny crooked front tooth of his that sticks out in that infuriatingly charming and endearing way. “You sure are one hell of a lucky guy, aren’t ya?”

Metaphorical fireworks explode inside of Minho’s chest. The notepad sitting at the bottom of the dumpster rejoices. Jisung can probably see the wheels turning inside of his head because all he does is laugh with that carefree, breezy laugh of his.

“So…” Jisung says as he peers up at him with a playful glint in his eye. “This is the part where we kiss, right?”

Minho snorts despite himself. “You’re not sly about this at all, are you?”

With that, he slowly brings his hands up to reach out and cup Jisung’s sweet face. His fingers make light strokes across blush pink cheeks and smooth honey-warm skin. He even spots a tiny freckle on the side of Jisung’s nose that he’s never noticed before, to his delight.

Tilting his own head down a bit, Minho leans in to close the rest of the distance and softly presses a chaste kiss against Jisung’s smiling mouth. Jisung, a little shocked at first seeing that his eyes blow wide, quickly melts into his arms and pushes up onto his tippy-toes to give the corner of his mouth a light kiss back.

Minho’s heart begin to sing.

The coolness of the loose droplets that drip down from his still-damp hair onto his skin contrasts with the warm hands that slide up his chest and around his neck as Jisung opens up his mouth and kisses him more earnestly. Somewhere along the way, their hands find each other and meet -- interlocking with one another so expectedly perfectly.

All of those years wondering what the fuss about love was all about all makes sense now. Minho is certain -- there’s no other feeling in the world that’s as perfect as this.

As he pulls away, their hands still clasped together, he faintly notices that Jisung’s eyes are starting to look a little glassy.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I - I don’t know,” Jisung says, his voice trembling. “I think it’s because I’ve never felt this happy before.”

And with that, Jisung completely bursts into a loud sob as big fat tears start to roll down his cheeks.

Minho instantly brings his hands up to cup Jisung’s face again and frantically looks into his eyes. “Baby, why are you crying?”

Jisung’s crying stops momentarily and he looks up at Minho in absolute bewilderment.

“Did you just call me _‘baby’_?” he blubbers out before tears are starting to well up in his eyes again and he wails some more. It takes about ten more minutes of Minho’s gentle cooing and his fingers calmly brushing through Jisung’s hair before his crying subsides into muted watery hiccups.

“Feeling better?” Minho says. He wipes a stray tear from Jisung’s cheek and smiles fondly down at him.

Jisung nods as he sniffs up the rest of his tears. “Yeah, I am.”

He leans forward to lay his head against Minho’s shoulder and sighs contently. Wrapping his arms around Jisung’s waist in return, Minho holds him loosely as he rests his chin in the soft waves of Jisung’s hair. They stand still like that for a bit, embracing each other quietly, as the twinkling stars move slowly across the night sky above them.

After a moment, Jisung says, “Can you believe that we just made out in front of a dumpster?”

Minho groans. “When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound romantic at all.”

“How else was I supposed to describe it?”

“Uh, I don’t know? Maybe that after being best friends and crushing over each other for ages, we finally got our shit together and had our first kiss so now we’re both best friends _and_ boyfriends?”

“Hmmm,” Jisung hums thoughtfully as he nestles closer into Minho’s neck. “I guess that sounds pretty nice.”

They stay silent for a few seconds longer before Jisung abruptly leaps backward, breaking out of Minho’s arms, and gasps. “What the hell are we gonna say to our friends now?”

Minho, mourning over the sudden loss of warmth and intimacy, sighs. “Well, that can wait for another time.” The wind starts to pick up again and he shivers. “Right now, all I care about is going back inside before my body freezes to death.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, Mister Whiny Pants.” Promptly grabbing one of Minho’s hands and tugging him back towards the inviting warmth of the complex, he calls out, “Looks like we better be sleeping together tonight if you’re so scared about being cold.”

Minho throws his head back and laughs. “Whatever you want, baby.”

 

***

 

_That Friday, Minho and Jisung walk through the door of Chan and Woojin’s apartment hand-in-hand._

_“We’re dating,” Jisung announces very matter-of-factly when they enter the living room for all to hear._

_Minho braces himself for a bombardment of questions and disgruntlement and backlash. Instead, the only response he gets is Woojin staring at them unblinkingly and simply nodding. “Fucking finally,” he says._

_A series of groans erupts in the room as his friends start to get up from their seats one by one and slap ₩10,000 notes into the palm of Woojin’s outstretched hand._

_“What the actual fuck,” Minho says as Jisung’s jaw drops to the floor._

_“I thought for sure it would happen in October,” Changbin cries._

_Seungmin shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I thought that Minho would be the gross and cheesy one and make a move on Christmas Day.”_

_Hyunjin huffs. “At least you still had a chance. I already lost back in June.”_

_“I hate making bets with you people,” Jeongin hisses through his teeth. “Why do you guys keep dragging me into this dumbass shit anyways?”_

_“Sucks to suck,” Woojin hums happily to himself as he counts out his ₩60,000 stack of winnings one by one._

_The two of them, still holding hands in the midst of the uproar and chaos, turn to look at each other._

_“Remind me why we’re friends with them again?” Jisung says._

_“Can’t. I’m too busy trying to figure out how to bury some people alive tonight with that discount shovel I bought last month.”_

_Jisung brings a hand up and gives him a reassuring pat on the arm. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, babe.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly get you a mans that will literally backstab and kill off every other teammate while playing running man and journey to the west but still have the heart to partner up with you so that you can murder everyone together :’) 
> 
> anyways it’s always a blast being able to share my fics with y’all so thanks for coming along on this adventure till the very end !!!
> 
>  
> 
> come find me in other places!
> 
> twitter: @heywitchboys  
> curiouscat: @witchboys  
> 


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